


Spirited

by Gammarad



Category: Imperial Radch Series - Ann Leckie
Genre: Gen, Spirits, The Undergarden (Imperial Radch)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:26:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27297859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gammarad/pseuds/Gammarad
Summary: Contents of this fic:Multiple instances of spirit possession.A haunted Undergarden.Bo decade feeding Lieutenant Tisarwat sweets.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 12





	Spirited

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EternalLibrary](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EternalLibrary/gifts).



> For the Leckieverse Halloween 2020 exchange (for the works of Ann Leckie, such as the Imperial Radch series and Raven Tower).
> 
> Thanks KalynaAnne for beta help at the last minute! 💙

The spirit had come to Station with a Samirend who'd lost her housekeeper position due to a scandal. Tamir hadn't been involved directly. A young member of her house became involved with the tea magnate's younger sister -- the spirit would gladly curse both of them. They were to blame for the spirit's exile to this artificial place. 

Bad enough that it had lost its homeworld, the place all Samirend truly belonged to, but now it had even lost its place on Athoek. Without someone to possess, there would be no cursing, and the spirit was growing ever hungrier. Could it find someone susceptible to possession, someone who had the need to curse an enemy with all her heart?

The spirit drifted, following anger where it could be found, following dissatisfaction, unfair treatment, the enticing scent of resentment and despair. It clung to a young Ychana as she went from her day job cleaning the food production areas at one of the station's free skel and sundries dispensaries, frustrated by her Xhai supervisor's unfair criticism of her use of white vinegar rather than chemical cleaners on the cooking surfaces -- it was cheaper and safer, but the supervisor didn't like the smell. 

As if the sickly-sweet scent of the cleaning fluid was pleasant! The spirit was drawn to the frustration, the indignation, the powerlessness of the young Ychana's aura. Just a bit more of that, the spirit mused, and it could possess this person, even if she wasn't Samirend.

The spirit had never attempted it. But there were so few Samirend here on Athoeki Station where it found itself. And it liked the Ychana. A few of the Ychana, the spirit liked a whole lot. 

And there were a whole lot of Ychana in the Undergarden. There were angry ones, and sad ones, and ones who stifled their feelings under a pretense of not caring, of not minding the slights the Xhai were always committing, sometimes unaware, sometimes fully cognizant of what they did. It depended on which Ychana the spirit watched whether the former was more offensive or the latter. 

There was a tea shop where an older Ychana served porridge tea, a favorite beverage of theirs. She provided simple porridge tea for such a low cost even the poorest of the station-dwellers could afford it, and added alcohol or flavorings for those who had the wherewithal to pay more, making all her profit from the latter. Because of this, the tea shop proprietor was well liked, even universally popular among the people in the Undergarden. 

So when a person came into the spirit's view who was furiously angry at the tea shop proprietor, that person felt completely powerless to do anything about her anger, and was thereby open to the spirit's possession. This person even had a Samirend friend nearby, which, the spirit found, made it easier. 

The spirit waited until the Samirend was embracing her friend, her angry and powerless and terribly frustrated friend, and slipped into their joined auras, entering the mouth of the Ychana. 

As the spirit filled her mouth, the Ychana began to shake and shudder uncontrollably. It had been a long while since the spirit possessed someone. The spirit remembered it being easy. But this wasn't easy. Maybe because the person wasn't Samirend?

The spirit struggled with the mouth, with the body, trying to gain enough control to speak. That was what was required. The spirit must speak the words of the curse if it was to take effect! It managed to get the mouth open, but the Ychana was being difficult. She kept closing her mouth and making the spirit work to get it open again.

The drawback of possessing the Ychana while she was with her Samirend friend was that the friend knew about spirit possession and how to counter it. She started trying to drag her possessed friend to a nearby sweet shop, to buy her treats and distract the spirit. 

Sweets were good, so good! The spirit was distracted even by the prospect. But no, the curse must be spoken, then it could be time for cake and candy. The only time the spirit got to eat was while possessing someone, so it had to eat enough to last. But first, the curse. 

Finally getting a grasp on the girl's mouth, the spirit managed the first word of the curse. 

"Oh no," the Samirend said, pulling a wrapped mint out of her jacket pocket covered in lint. She put it in the Ychana's mouth, covering with her hand to keep the candy in. The Ychana sucked on the candy, distracting the spirit. Oh, sweet! What delight, the first sweetness in so long!

The spirit was distracted enough to let the Samirend drag the possessed person to the sweet shop. All would have been lost, if not for the sweet shop proprietor, a haughty Xhai of no particular family but great self-importance. She stopped the two in front of her shop. 

"There is something wrong with her," the Xhai said, pointing to the possessed Ychana. 

"I need to buy sweets for her. She will be fine," said the Samirend.

"You may enter, but she must remain outside." The Xhai was firm on this, and the possessed person swallowed the mint. Her mouth was free as her friend was entering the shop. 

The spirit managed to speak the first part of the curse, after a few halting attempts. The Ychana's mouth was not used to speaking archaic Liost, and stumbled awkwardly on the formal language that the curse required to be effective. It would not be maximally effective anyway, since the person who was being cursed was not present, but the spirit would try to repeat the words in the tea shop proprietor's presence if that was possible. For now it would be enough to have the words spoken correctly. 

The spirit managed what it believed was close enough just as the Samirend came out of the shop with assorted packets of glazed preserved fruit bits and glittering multicolored spheres of hardened sugar. She also had an enormous sweet bean cake which she broke off a piece of and put into her friend's mouth as the spirit said the last word of the curse.

So very delicious. The curse had been accomplished, at least mostly, and the spirit could enjoy the feast. Allowing the Ychana to sit in a woven metal chair, the spirit kept the young person's mouth open as much as possible to allow the candy and bits of cake in. Greed for everything tasty and sweet overwhelmed the spirit. 

In all the pleasure and bliss of eating as much as possible to satiate the starvation of the time between possessions, the spirit lost hold of the Ychana, whose anger was dissipating in the wake of enjoyment of being fussed over by her friend and the gentle touches of her hand as she stroked her hair, and placed candy onto her tongue. 

"Mmm, this is so good, but I think I'm getting full," was the first thing the Ychana said on her own volition. 

"I didn't even know you knew Liost," her Samirend friend said, tears of relief coming to her eyes.

"I don't. Who is Liost?"

"The language... you were just trying to speak it? To curse in it?"

The Ychana tried to repeat the syllables she'd been saying, but she couldn't remember them properly. The curse came out all jumbled.

"That's a curse, don't say that!" her friend told her in alarm.

"Oh, sorry, I didn't... no, I did know it was a curse. How did I know that? Did I hear you say it before, maybe?" The Ychana was confused. She seemed to remember what she'd been doing, but not why she'd been doing it. "Oh, I do feel better, though. Thank you so much for the treats." She smiled. "It means a lot, that you'd do this for me."

Her Samirend friend bit her lip and looked down. "I'm sure it's what anyone would do who cared about you."

***

Bo Four and Bo Eight were fixing tea for Lieutenant Tisarwat in the current Mercy of Kalr crew offices on Athoeki Station. They had relocated to the renovated Undergarden a week earlier, as soon as Station had informed Ship that the suite was ready. 

Tisarwat had promised many things to Ship and to Fleet Captain to be permitted to return to Athoeki Station with half of Bo decade. She had been willing to promise these things in order to see her friends again and recoup the ground she had lost while she had been away. If she was going to see things run properly in the newly independent Two Systems, she would need to reinforce her connections. 

Her fingers were trembling. The cup and saucer made a clatter as Tisarwat accepted her tea from Bo Four. She tried to steady herself. She had taken her medication, hadn't she? She didn't feel wrong, not like she did when she missed taking them on schedule, or right after Medic adjusted the dosages. 

"She's shaking," Bo Eight said. Her face went slack in the way that told Tisarwat she was talking to Ship. Asking about Tisarwat, probably. 

There was something in Tisarwat that shouldn't be there, she suddenly felt. Something in her mouth. She tried to spit, but couldn't; sipped the tea, couldn't swallow it, but the thing was in her mouth. Then it was further in, not down her throat, but spreading through her body, taking her over. 

It was frightening, but not entirely. Beneath the fear, it was exhilarating. Whatever this was that was consuming her from the mouth outward -- and how much symbolism was there in that, Tisarwat thought with the part of her that was thousands of years old, while the teenaged part of her scoffed at the pretentiousness of the thought -- it brought with it glee and freedom. 

It unlocked the anger she always, always had inside, wordlessly promised vengeance on all her enemies, only who were they, it asked, who did she hate with so much overpowering fury locked up tight that it would now set loose? 

"Ship says it's spirit possession," Bo Eight said to Bo Four. "Says Fleet Captain saw this happen to one of the Denche's servants, down on the planet. Says we ought to give her sweets."

Bo Four frowned. "We might still have some of that pastry she likes," she said. In a cabinet, she found a single serving remaining of Tisarwat's favorite with sugar icing, and Bo Eight went next door to check the Amaat decade offices for more. 

Anaander Mianaai, Tiswarwat told the spirit, is my enemy. This is her fault. Into the thought that was "this" Tisarwat packed a whole catalogue of iniquities, the harm the Lord of the Radch had done to her ship and her shipmates, her captain, and most particularly and egregiously her own person. 

She had been her own person, once. Never again, because of Anaander Mianaai, and that deserved a curse. 

The words of the curse flowed from the spirit into Tisarwat, and she shouted them, though she didn't understand them, had learned a bit of Liost from the Samirend representative for the Underground on the council, but none of this archaic dialect she now spoke, word after word after word.

"What does that mean?" Bo Four asked, and Ship told them. 

At the same time, Ship told Tisarwat what she was saying. "May the fear that will not let you sleep meet you on waking," was Mercy of Kalr's rendering of the Liost words. 

Tisarwat felt the spirit echo and trembled even more, all over, her tea spilling onto the table. 

Bo Eight returned with a wrapped box of sweet frosted oatcakes, opened them hurriedly -- ripping the box in the process -- and put one, whole, into Tisarwat's open mouth.

Cakes like these had been fine, but bland and cloying to Tisarwat's palate. This one was incredibly delicious. The spirit in her savored the sweet, fragrant cake, the floral notes of the petals that had been preserved to flavor it, the intense sugar rush and faint sourness in Tisarwat's mouth as her salivary glands reacted to the taste. 

She was drooling. Tisarwat did not drool. It was uncivilized. Bo Four patted her lip and chin with a napkin to wipe it away, then put another cake into her mouth. It was as amazing as the first had been.

What are you, Tisarwat asked the spirit. It would not say, not really, it was growing sleepy and gentle as it gorged itself and her on cake after cake. Bo Four refilled the teacup with extra-sweet tea, and Tisarwat gulped it down. 

Like a sleepy toddler on her mother's lap, the spirit curled up and let go of Tisarwat, beginning to fade. Tisarwat grabbed onto it, held it in her mind, refused to let it go. 

The spirit was confused. No one had ever wanted to keep it before, it seemed to be telling her. It wouldn't be able to stay in her now that it had fed. It naturally would go, to find someone else when it grew hungry again.

"No, I want to keep you," Tisarwat said aloud. She thought hard. She never doubted her own ability to find an answer to anything -- not before trying, anyway. If it was some kind of spirit, and needed to be fed, then, of course, the answer was obvious. 

Tisarwat would create a symbol for it, set it on her altar along with the other personal deities, and give the spirit, each day, a small piece of candy. Keep it fed, but not overfed, and then when she needed it -- when she was angry enough and ready to lay a curse -- all she would have to do was invite it in.


End file.
